Greetings, lucky traveler! Bless you! You’ve released me from my lamp outside the Goldman Sachs building. Please allow me to show my gratitude. I’d like to repay your kindness by loaning you three wishes, at no higher than 8.99% annual interest, compounded monthly, contingent upon receipt of income verification and a rudimentary background check.
Of course, there are some wish restrictions. First, just because everyone tries to sneak this one by me: no wishing for more wishes! Can’t have you running around town, wishing for things willy-nilly, causing havoc with me at the helm. Second, I can’t make people fall in love with you. Some things are just out of my control, and the human heart has proven immune to my magic powers. Third, and this is just a formality, but I’ve got to say it anyways: any and all wishes that I (henceforth known as “Gorvenal the Opportunist”) loan to you (henceforth known as “The Opportunity”) will require a 20% down payment, in addition to forfeiture of the loaned asset in the event of failure to repay it in a timely manner (generally on the timespan of 24 to 36 months, but with flexibility allowing for a ten-year reimbursement schedule, payable semi-monthly after a twelve month grace period).
Perhaps you’re interested in finding true love. Too bad. See rule two, bucko. Can’t pull a fast one on your new buddy Gorvenal. I wasn’t born yesterday. I was born in 1869, forged below the icy waters of the East River, summoned by the newly formed board of directors of Goldman Sachs, as an experimental way to boost our bottom line and bring in more revenue.
Need some examples? Sure. My last guy … what was his name again? Barack something. Anyway, he asked if I could make him president. I said, “can a Civil War era loan shark get reincarnated as a tortured soul, imprisoned in a lamp, and be doomed to serve his corporate overlords until he helps them reach a profitable fourth quarter? Hell yeah I can!” After I granted his wish, I waited the obligatory 12 months, and then showed up to collect the first payment. Lo and behold, this guy tried to lay something on me about the “sluggish economy” and “the presidency doesn’t seem like a tangible thing that I can pay back, let alone in 18 semi-monthly increments. Can I see that loan sheet again? I don’t really understand the rules here. Also, uhhhh, do you have a no-takebacks policy on earlier wishes?” Can you believe that? Apparently, the terms sheet I had him sign didn’t allow me to repossess the presidency for 10 years, or until the impending collapse of democracy (whichever came first), so I had to walk [float] away from that one. Needless to say, I’ve revised my wish terms. Live and learn. Is what I’m doing considered living?
I’ve got a performance review coming up, so let me toss out a wish that would keep the guys upstairs happy. Maybe you could ask for a trillion dollars? A trillion dollars. That’s, like, so many muskets, or whatever the 2018 equivalent might be. All I’d need from you would be a signature on the little dotted line here, preferably in blood, and a teeny tiny down payment of $200 billion dollars. You seem like a ten-year plan kind of guy, so the semi-monthly payments should run you no more than $416 million.
What’s that? You want to use your wish to waive the down payment, interest, and loan status on all future wishes? Well that’s … that’s gotta be against the rules somehow. Let me check … no…